This post will be a quick one. I need to get my ass in gear and read some operating systems, much to my disdain.

However, here's a prose piece I just wrote, for use in a collaboration project with Funkmaster Pink. Inwardly I hope that it's good enough... :)

Peace, guys.
(alas, in short supply, in times like these - no thanks to our fearless Texan..)

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Hidden Agenda

3/6/03

It is in the large fourth-floor meeting room that David P. Roberts finally realizes the meaning of the dream. He is nestled in boredom, wrapped in a blanket of warm, stale office air, rolling in and out of a soft catnap. Entranced by that middle place, the murky paradise between fancy and reality, the message clicks home. He has been seeing the future all this time.

Today, David sits amongst his coworkers, listening to their frightening tales of second-quarter earnings. He occasionally mirrors their concern with a slightly wrinkled brow and a few perfunctory nods. Sometimes he smiles. Inside, though, brews his own fear. David has seen the future. His stomach turns inward and begins stabbing itself, for tomorrow morning, corporate survival instinct will reign. He knows he will fire his underlings, the very people he smiles at now. Sheila, Ted, Ray, the others around the mahogany table, they all stare, everyone concerned for the company - and yet he smiles.